Long-Lost was gone; in his place were now six panels, the first one showing a boy of about nine or ten lying in a hospital bed while a lovely girl several years his senior held his hand.
I recognized Beth and myself immediately.
The next panel had no illustration, just a thought bubble with a caption that read:
ALL RIGHT, GIL-A LITTLE NUDGE. CONSIDER IT A GESTURE OF GOOD FAITH. THESE PAGES ARE MADE FROM A SECTION OF FLESH TAKEN FROM ONE OF MY WINGS. THEY REFLECT MEMORIES, GIL, BUT ONLY THOSE YOU’RE WILLING TO FACE. YOU’LL BE WRITING AND ILLUSTRATING THE REST OF THIS ISSUE. WE’LL TALK AGAIN SOON.
I went back to the first panel again, only now there was the caption:
BETH WAS RELEASED FROM THE HOSPITAL FIVE DAYS BEFORE ME, BUT SHE MADE IT A POINT TO VISIT ME EVERY DAY AFTER SCHOOL.
The second panel was now filled by the young boy’s face-my own-and the caption was situated close to the top of his head, so you’d know it was he who was narrating.
EVEN THEN I NOTICED HOW SOME OF HER SPARKLE SEEMED TO FADE ONCE SHE WAS BACK IN THE WORLD.
And I stayed like that, on the stool in the barn, while outside a gigantic bear and two black dogs stood guard; I stayed like that, reading the comic through to the last page, then returning to the first and finding that it had altered and was now taking up the story where the last page had left off, and I read the words, and I saw the pictures, and with every new panel the memories were as thick as summer heat around me, and I was… powerless.
But there was Beth’s face, and soon her voice in my ears, her scent enveloping me, the ghost of her touch rising to the surface from deep beneath the layers of my skin, and I stopped fighting it and let myself (… about goddamn time, pal…)
– become lost once again in her eyes, her companionship, and everything that followed…
II
Beth was released from the hospital five days before I was, but she made it a point to visit me every day after school. Even then I noticed how some of her sparkle seemed to fade once she was back in the world. It was nothing dramatic, her spirit hadn’t been broken in one brutal blow, but even a kid can recognize a soul that’s starting to bleed to death from thousands of tiny scratches.
Still, she was always upbeat and affectionate, bringing me comic books or telling me about this groovy new song she’d heard on the radio, or regaling me with gossip gathered during lunch or study hall. She always sat on the edge of my bed and held my hand and made me feel like I was the most important thing in the world. I had never received such unselfish attention from a person before, nor have I since.
“I’ve been driving for a month now,” she said, “and my aunt is finally trusting me to use the car when she’s not with me. I haven’t had any passengers yet”-she winked at me and smiled one of those delicious I’ve-got-a- surprise smiles-”but that’s gonna change on Friday.”
“What’s Friday?”
She lightly smacked my hand. “Friday, dummy, is when you get released. Doctor said you’ll be well enough to go home, and I am going to pick you up.”
“But Mom and Dad-”
“I already asked your mom and she said it was fine.”
I blinked. It had never occurred to me that Mom wouldn’t want to pick me up, but just as unsettling was the idea that she had given Beth-who was little more than a stranger to her-permission to take me. “Did you ask her when she was here?”
“Nuh-uh. I called your house.”
We were unlisted. “How’d you get our phone number?”
Another patented Beth wink. “Vee haf vays of gazzering zee information.”
“Huh?”
“Someday you’ll understand. Care enough about someone, and you’ll find a way to help them, no matter what.”
I didn’t really understand what she meant by that, but it seemed like this was something she really wanted to do because she liked me. I had to keep reminding myself that this great girl with the long hair and love beads and hip-huggers and gold flecks in her light brown eyes liked me. A lot, it seemed.
“Hey, here’s an idea-how about after I pick you up, we go out for some ice cream cones?”
“Sure!”
“Then maybe you can come over and eat dinner with the family.”
“Oh-did your mom come home?”
A brief, wistful shadow crossed over her face and then was gone, replaced by her bright smile that seemed a little false. “No, it’s just me and my aunt and the Its.”
“‘Its’?”
“You’ll see.”
Mom called the morning of my release and said it was fine if I wanted to go over to Beth’s for dinner; Dad wasn’t feeling well (which meant he was either drunk or hung-over) and it might be best if I didn’t come home right away. Too much activity might upset him and we couldn’t have that. It made me glad she wasn’t picking me up; all she’d do was complain about Dad, then tell me not to say anything.
A little before ten a doctor I hadn’t seen before came in and gave me the once-over, told me that I’d need to exercise my shoulder, and gave me a pamphlet explaining how to do it. Half an hour later a nurse I’d never seen before came in with a wheelchair, handed me some slips of paper, and told me that my ride was here. Beth came in right behind her, all Day-Glo smiles and flourescent sunshine.
“Ready to hit the road, little brother?” She winked at me but the nurse didn’t see it. “Got all your stuff? Okay, good-what about his prescriptions?”
“He’s got them,” replied the nurse, who must have been new to this floor because she didn’t seem to recognize Beth at all.
“Cool. Mom gave me money to get them filled on the way home.” She was play-acting, just like her mother on the London Stage. It was kind of fun to watch.
I was rolled downstairs and to Beth’s car-a monstrous green U-boat of a station wagon with wood paneling on the doors. Inside it smelled of cigarettes, sweat, and something pungent that made my nose itch.
Once on our way, Beth reached over and squeezed my hand. “How you feeling, hon? Any pain?”
“Yeah, a little. My shoulder and stuff.”
“Let’s stop and get your medicine. My treat.”
“But Mom said my medicine was going to be expensive.”
“Codeine, some stuff for swelling and stiffness, and antibiotics. Twenty-two dollars-I already checked.”
I know it’s hard to remember, but in 1970, twentytwo dollars was a lot of money, even if you weren’t a kid.
“That’s an awful lot,” I said.
“Hey, nothing’s too good for my guy. Besides, I’ve been saving my allowance for years. And I worked waiting tables part-time during the summer. It won’t leave me broke.”
She was my friend, she’d visited me, she was giving me a ride for ice cream, and now she was going to spend twenty-two dollars of her own money on medicine for me? What had I done to deserve this? People never did anything for me without wanting something back for it, and for a moment I thought maybe Beth was going to say something like, “Hey, since I did this for you, would you do a favor for me?” But she never did, not once in all the
